


Cluelessness

by Minuete



Series: His and Her Angst [30]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Episode: s05e17 All Souls, F/M, Light Angst, POV First Person, Scully POV, end of Emily Arc, post-episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-02 07:24:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18806464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minuete/pseuds/Minuete
Summary: Mulder waits for Scully outside of church during her confession. Immediately takes place after "All Souls".





	Cluelessness

I couldn’t say I felt lighter once I stepped out of the confessional booth, but I could now hold onto my faith: my belief that I would see Emily again someday in Heaven. The afternoon sun causes momentary blindness as my eyes adjust to the sudden change in brightness once I exit the church to head to my car. I blink several times still standing at the entrance until I notice his figure leaning against a tree less than 10 yards away from me. Mulder. How did he know I was here? I make my way towards him as he straightens himself away from the tree.

“How did your session go?” he asks once I am near. I let out a huff.

“Confessionals aren’t sessions, Mulder.” I see an upturn of his lips, though his teasing manner didn’t reach his eyes, which are filled with sympathy. I swallow back a lump forming in my throat and focus my gaze on his tie that is always askew. “How long have you been out here?”

He shrugs. “Not that long.”

“You could’ve sat in one of the pews inside while you were waiting.” Another shrug.

“I think I’ve reached my quota for the year. I don’t want your God to smite me for desecrating his place with sunflower seeds.” I look down and notice the empty shells surrounding him as if it were to act as a circle of salt to guard him against whatever sanctity resides in the church. I let out another huff as I start to walk to the parking lot with Mulder beside me matching my stride.

“The case remains open pending the arrest of Aaron Starkey,” Mulder says after a beat or two of silence between us minus the sounds of our shoes hitting the pavement.

“We’re not going to find him. Aaron Starkey doesn’t exist,” I reply quickly with as much certainty as I felt at the police station. I feel Mulder’s gentle grip on my left elbow as he turns me to face him. His hazel eyes flicker left-to-right as he searches for answers I’m trying to convey through my eyes. Answers that he is unwilling to believe. We are at an impasse.

His hand migrates from my elbow to my shoulder, mirroring the stance we had days ago at the station. I recall that moment with so much clarity that I fear to acknowledge its significance, but the emotions quickly tumble back. A flash of anger that surged within me at his clueless remark about me being so vulnerable and easily manipulated, followed by the hurt when I admitted to Mulder that I saw Emily. I couldn’t blame Mulder for his cluelessness when I was the one that trained him to take “I’m fine” at face value. It was my way of stonewalling people emotionally, barricading myself from an entourage of emotions that I would see play out on their faces: distress, sympathy, disappointment. This man before me who believes in the mystical and legends, who drops everything and pursues evidence of extraterrestrial life, who can make apologetics weep at his biblical knowledge, does not believe what I believe occurred with this case.

I know that Mulder could see my attempt to keep my emotions in check as I try to turn away from his discerning gaze, but the same hand moves up to cup my cheek, his long fingers splay out to where his fourth and pinky fingers could feel the erratic pulse against my neck as my breath hitches. He leans in hovering over me as I willed my hands to remain still despite the urge to place them on his chest to push him away, to give me back my personal space he so often invades. His touch that usually grounds me feels heavy as if I’m shackled.

“Scully...” he trails off, his eyes look pained as if he knows he is the cause of my current emotional state. Without breaking eye contact, my hand reaches up to cover his upon my cheek.

“Have you finished drafting your side of the report for this case?” I ask as I pry his hand away from my face, letting his hand drop away. He worries his bottom lip as his eyes become like lost-puppy eyes. He shakes his head as he shoves his hands in his pockets.

“No. I’m going to sign off on your report. It was your case from the very beginning, Scully. I was merely along for the ride,” he answers. He’s offering an olive branch in a Mulderish roundabout way, and I know that I should take it, but I can’t seem to let this issue go.

“Why do you belittle me when it comes to my faith, Mulder?” He looks at me with disbelief.

“I see what misplaced zeal could do all in the name of God Almighty, but for you to think that I’m belittling you for your beliefs tells me I need to do a better job at expressing my faith in you. I’m sorry if I ever made you doubt yourself.”

“Right,” I breathe out as I finally tear my eyes away from his gaze.

I am about to turn away when he says, “I respect our journey together, Scully. Always.”

An echo of long ago, when I doubted my abilities to help him with the Pfaster case. My eyes well up with tears that I force myself to withhold. Mulder sees it though. He can see the brightness of my blue eyes as he clears his throat and starts to walk towards the parking lot ahead of me.

“Come on, Scully. Let’s head back to the office. The report isn’t going to draft itself.” 


End file.
